by Zen DiPietro
Nagali excelled at schmoozing, though. He kept his arm around her and decided that was how he’d spend the rest of the night. She could do the work part of the schmoozing and he could stand alongside and make the appropriate expressions and gestures.
He hoped the time passed quickly. He was eager to find out what Rigby knew about Barony’s operations.
“My feet are killing me.” Nagali kicked off her shoes and dropped into a chair.
After the party, she, Cabot, and Omar had been glad to retire to the staterooms of the parliamentary compound. The huge suite usually served to house dignitaries from other planets in the system. Cabot wondered if anyone had been booted to more modest accommodations in order to give Ditnya’s team the most luxurious experience possible.
He liked the idea of it, actually—some stuffy bureaucrat huffing over the reduced size of his rooms.
“Maybe you shouldn’t wear such ridiculous shoes,” Omar said, sitting on a long, red couch with a sigh. “Only an idiot wears shoes that hurt.”
Nagali made a sound of disgust. “You know nothing of fashion. Sometimes you have to suffer in order to make the right impression. Perception is power.”
“Is that what all that boobage was about?” Omar scoffed. “A woman your age should not be flapping all that around.”
“Nothing flapped.” Nagali sounded offended at the accusation. “I have great boobs, thank you very much, and this dress shows them off so nicely.”
“It really does,” Cabot agreed, earning him a look of outrage from Omar.
Nagali beamed at him.
“Yeah, well, you can stop showing them off anytime. Please.” Omar rested his head on the back of the couch so that he was looking up at the ceiling.
“Did you come up with anything useful?” Cabot asked. “I made good inroads, but Nagali did nothing helpful whatsoever.”
Nagali laughed. “You two should have to do your part every now and then, instead of always relying on me to get everything done.”
Omar snorted but didn’t look at her. “No one was interested in me. I’m just a deckhand, as far as they’re concerned. So I ate a lot of some kind of meat, and a bunch of meatballs made out of some other kind of meat. And I’m pretty sure someone grabbed my ass when my hands were full of plates, but I don’t know who it was. A shame, because that was the best part of my night.”
“Where was Pigie at the time?” Nagali asked.
“Sitting and eating meatballs. Wasn’t her, unless she’s way faster than anyone would expect.”
“She’s stealthier than you think,” Cabot said, feeling pretty sure he knew the source of the mystery ass-grab.
“I’ll thank her later, just in case,” Omar said.
Cabot almost said something about Peregrine, but didn’t. Omar withstood teasing about most anything, but not about her.
A wise trader knows which lines not to cross.
That was one of his rules of sales, though the exact number of it escaped him. Somewhere in the one hundred and forties, surely.
“So now what?” Omar asked. “I feel about as useful as a toilet with a warp drive.”
Nagali eyed her brother. “At least a toilet has a purpose. Unlike you.”
“Why don’t we get some rest?” Cabot suggested loudly, to cut off another session of Freeborn bickering and insults. “Hopefully when Ditnya returns, she’ll have something for us to work with. We’ll meet with Rigby to figure out our next steps when we get back to the ship. I think she had concerns of being overheard.”
He gave them a pointed look, and they nodded. They’d have to be careful what they said in these staterooms.
He retired to his room to slide into the deliciously comfortable bed and get some rest. He intended to enjoy the posh lifestyle and the sleep while he could.
If things went as he hoped, soon they would have no time for either.
When Cabot returned to the Bona Fide, his first priority was contacting Admiral Erickson for an update. Only minutes after describing the visit to the planet’s surface to the admiral, his voicecom lit up with an incoming call from Fallon.
He immediately answered it.
She appeared on his screen not at Dragonfire Station, but in her ship, Nefarious.
“Chief. This is a surprise.” He studied the image in front of him. Fallon sat on the bridge of her battleship, with Hawk, Peregrine, and Raptor in full view.
He had a feeling this did not indicate something good.
Fallon smiled faintly. “I thought you’d taken to calling me by my name. It’s starting to feel odd, people still calling me Chief. It’s been a while since I left that position on Dragonfire.”
“Old habits die hard, I guess,” Cabot answered. “I’ll work on it. What can I do for you?”
“I hear you’ve made a contact in the Zankarti system.”
“I think so. As of yet, I haven’t gotten anything useful out of her, so I’m reserving judgment.”
Her eyes were knowing. “But you have strong expectations.”
“Hopes,” he corrected.
“Strong hopes,” she prodded.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I’m very hopeful about where this will lead.”
“Good. My team has been dispatched to patrol space between Dragonfire and Blackthorn. I doubt Erickson revealed much to you, but tensions are rising. We’ve lost another outpost. Fortunately, this one was small and automated, but it increases Barony’s hold on that sector.”
He gave her a long look, and she met his gaze with intensity.
“PAC command is planning a strike,” Cabot guessed. “But they didn’t want to tell me because it could get to Ditnya and they’re keeping her on need-to-know status.”
“Yes,” Fallon agreed. “How’s your security there?”
“I’ve employed every safeguard I can on a system I don’t have control over. I’d say there’s a thirty percent chance Ditnya will see this conversation.”
“Make it a hundred percent,” Fallon ordered.
Cabot tried to consider the potential fallout for him in obeying one faction of PAC command that was giving him permission that another faction certainly had not. “Why?”
“Erickson handles general administration. You know that. I’m partnered with Krazinski, who handles intelligence. Sometimes there are areas between those two that don’t overlap. This is one of those times.”
“I see.” Cabot tried to reason out her intentions. “Are you hoping she’ll stop the strike or take part in it?”
“I want her to be prepared for either. She can provide us with a way to take them down from the inside, or she can help us with the brute force method. I’m hoping for the first one, but expect it will come to the other.”
“But you can’t speak to her about this because she’s…” he carefully considered how to characterize Ditnya.
“An enemy of the state,” Fallon finished.
“So this is how intelligence, counterintelligence, and all that spy stuff you do works? Back channeling against your own dictates?”
“Sometimes.” Fallon turned slightly to accept an infoboard from Peregrine. “No system is perfect. How are Omar and Nagali performing? Are they still determined to help the PAC?”
Was Peregrine concerned for her lover? He looked at the blond woman’s steely expression.
Not likely. That infoboard had probably been about a different matter altogether, and the subject change had been entirely coincidental.
“Yes. Their loyalty lies with the PAC. I don’t have concerns about them betraying me on this particular front.”
“And Caine?” Hawk asked.
“She appears to be operating in good faith,” Cabot said. “She’s been forthcoming about her intentions and I have full access to the ship’s systems. More importantly, it’s still in her best interest to stop Barony’s incursion on the PAC zone.”
“I see. Continue updating Erickson as you have been, but keep me apprised of any developments. I’ll be in contact again soon.”
&nb
sp; “Am I likely to see you in this relative vicinity of space?” he asked. Truth be told, he’d feel better with Fallon’s team nearby.
“If you do,” she said, “it will mean we both have ended up on the frontlines of a war.”
“Aren’t we already?”
She smiled wryly. “Yes. But there’s a difference in being on the frontlines while doing reconnaissance and being there while bombs are going off.”
“I’d prefer to avoid the bombs,” he said, struck by his ability to joke about such a thing. No, it was more about the fact that he was in a potentially bomb-adjacent position at all.
“I’d rather you did, too. Stay safe, Cabot.”
Her image disappeared.
Right. Stay safe.
“I’ll do my best,” he told the blank screen. “But circumstances aren’t currently working in my favor.”
“There’s some sentiment among the Zankarti ministers that their system should be opened up to galactic trade and travel,” Ditnya announced.
They’d gathered in the meeting room to share their experiences on the planet and await Rigby’s arrival. Nagali, Omar, and Kelvin had joined them, though Astrid was commanding the bridge and Pigie was unexpectedly absent.
“How blatant were they in saying this?” Nagali asked.
Ditnya tolerated her more than normal, probably due to Nagali’s work with the offering bowl. She even looked directly at Nagali when she spoke. “Broad generalizations with a few pointed inferences. Nothing spoken outright, but the meaning was clear. There are those in the system who want to open it up, and would be pleased to form a relationship in anticipation of that.”
“That is incredibly interesting.” Cabot rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m trying to get a handle on their political parties and associations, but there’s more crossover among interest groups than most governments have.”
“Yes,” Ditnya agreed. “Plus, we have a central governing planet with outlying planet members, rather than each planet being independent but allied. That’s certainly different, and further complicates matters.”
“But you felt there was something there,” Omar said. “Something valuable.”
Ditnya’s eyes gleamed. “Yes. It’s probably something I can’t exploit until well into the future, but the discord might prove useful to us in some way now.”
“Rigby might be able to instruct us on that point,” Cabot said.
“You seem quite taken with her.” Ditnya eyed him.
“I wouldn’t say that. I’m taken with the opportunity that I believe she represents. I think she may be more like us than she is like the majority of her people.”
“Business is hardly specific to any one region,” Nagali scoffed. “Isn’t it possible that the Zankarti people as a whole are more like us than not? So far all we’ve met are elected officials and the privileged few.”
“An excellent point,” Ditnya said.
Cabot didn’t know which of the rest of them was more surprised by this praise. Nagali’s eyebrows had climbed up to her hairline.
“It’s too bad we don’t have more time to find out about all that.” Omar frowned. “We’ll be accepting a lot of things on faith, based on what people say.”
“Sometimes, we’re thrust into situations we know little about. We must stay alert, watch for cues, and be ready to adjust at any point.” Ditnya started to continue, but the door chime sounded.
“Starting now,” she said in a low voice, before gesturing for Kelvin to open the door.
6
“I can get you onto Mayani Minor.” Rigby made this announcement almost as soon as she entered the room and sat, stunning them all.
Cabot recovered his voice first. “How would you do that? And more importantly, why would you do that?”
“It’s complicated,” Rigby said, shifting in her seat to lean forward. “And yet incredibly simple. I want the Barony Coalition out of this system, and I believe you are the people who can make that happen.”
That announcement dropped a bomb of silence over the group.
“Why?” Kelvin’s question surprised Cabot, both because the man had said almost nothing in his presence, and because he was the first to put his thoughts together enough to ask what they all were thinking.
“I love my planet,” Rigby said, her voice rising with passion. “I love this entire system. I love the peace we’ve enjoyed for centuries. Maybe staying out of the PAC has helped that and maybe it hasn’t, but my government is now so out of step with the populace and the reality of modern interstellar politics that it’s going to destroy us.”
Ditnya leaned back in her chair slightly, her eyes narrowed in thought. “And you said you’re a buyer?”
Excellent question, and one Cabot was eager to hear the answer to. Since first meeting her, he’d thought Rigby unusually well-spoken and intelligent for her job.
Rigby frowned at the question, though. “Where you’re from, are people who specialize in commerce particularly stupid or something?”
Kelvin’s expression darkened, but Ditnya, Nagali, and Cabot smiled. Omar looked intrigued.
“In fact,” Ditnya said, “I think business-minded people are the smartest and most savvy of the lot. My apologies.”
Now Cabot was intrigued, too. Ditnya liked this woman. Really liked her. He couldn’t recall her ever apologizing to anyone before.
“Why are you surprised that I have insights into the politics of my own government, then?” Rigby pressed.
“Maybe it’s that where we’re from, many traders don’t have the formal education you’ve apparently had,” Ditnya explained. “Instead, they’ve been educated by experience.”
“Zankarti people highly value academic education,” Rigby said. “I suppose it is different where you’re from.”
Nagali spoke up. “Where I’m from, business is its own education. But that’s just Rescissitan. Neighboring planets within our system are entirely different. And other solar systems are something else entirely. Your system appears to have a heterogeneous nature unlike anything the rest of us are familiar with.”
Omar shot Nagali a look at the word “heterogeneous.” She arched an eyebrow at him as if to say, So? I can be smart too, if I feel like it.
Cabot smiled. Long ago, as a child, he’d discovered that he had a certain tingling feeling in his nose when a particularly tremendous opportunity presented itself to him.
He was having that feeling now.
“So Zankarti people, in general, are scholarly?” he asked.
“I’d say we’re normal,” Rigby said. “But maybe to your people our normal looks unusually scholarly?”
“Maybe.” Cabot liked her frankness. He guessed that Ditnya did, too.
“Tell us, if you don’t mind, about your scholastic background.” Ditnya smiled. “It might help us put things in perspective.”
“I attended primary, secondary, and tertiary schools,” she said. “As everyone does. Then at the the age of twenty, I elected to continue the education path with quaternary school. I focused on economy, politics, and military history.”
“What degrees do you have?” Kelvin asked. For once, he’d lost his grimace. He seemed fascinated with the slim, fine-featured woman with dark hair and eyes.
“Degrees?” she asked. “I’m not sure what you mean. I completed the quinary level of study, which is another level beyond the quaternary level. But I declined to begin teaching.”
“Is that what usually happens to people who complete the quinary level?” Ditnya asked.
“Yes. It is the most advanced coursework, and usually leads to research and teaching.”
“So you’re more educated than what we call university professors,” Nagali observed. “Why didn’t you want to teach? Does it not pay enough?”
“We have a tiered system of socialism. The pay of a top-level educator is in the middle tier, as is my current profession as a buyer. I thought teaching would be dull, so I went with buying.”
Cabot
made a mental note to get back to the concept of tiered socialism at a later date. The more she talked, the more he wanted to know about her home system, but they were here to do a job and needed to get on with it. “What about all those fancy people we met while being wined and dined? What tier are they in?”
“Top tier. Because inherited moneys are not paid into the socialist economy, the top tier is largely static,” Rigby said.
Nagali made a sound of annoyance. “Do all of your people talk like they have sticks up their asses?”
Cabot resisted the urge to clap his hands to his cheeks in mortification.
“Stick…up my…what?” Rigby looked perplexed.
“It’s an expression.” Omar glared at his sister. “It describes someone who is very formal.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I’ve found that although the standard language is largely the same, occasional phrasings are at variance.” Rigby pursed her lips in concern.
“We understand you perfectly,” Ditnya said smoothly, sending Nagali a look of death. “Never mind our pedestrian friend there. She tends to speak before she thinks. Your words are just very formal in comparison to our everyday manner of talking.”
“I see.” Rigby bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’m a quick study. I’ll adapt to your phrasings soon.”
Ditnya broke into a broad grin. “I do love a quick study. Now, as fascinating as our cultural differences are, and as much as I’d like to do an in-depth study of your people before acting, we’re in a bit of a pinch for time. That is to say, the sooner we blast Barony out of Zankarti space, the better. So let’s get to work.”
Rigby’s doubtful expression morphed into something far keener, more alert and satisfied. “You’ll help me, then.”
“No,” Ditnya said. “We’re going to help each other. Now, let’s discuss exactly how we’ll get that Barony garbage out of here.”
Fifteen hours, no sleep, and a whole lot of coffee later, they’d created a plan. Exhausted, Rigby had crashed in a guest cabin on the Bona Fide. Cabot went to his own cabin, muted all possible noisemakers, and used a handy little not-very-legal device to deadlock the door.
